


Together

by Nelioe



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Battle of Five Armies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 13:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1430296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelioe/pseuds/Nelioe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fíli and Kíli take the final step together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> All right I’ve finally found the courage to upload this story. It was written last year in my mother tongue and I translated it later on. But I couldn’t bring myself to upload it, because this was one of the most emotional things I’ve ever written in my first language, but I’m not sure how it will come across in another language. So I’m a bit nervous. 
> 
> If there are any grammatical errors or other mistakes in it, I would really appreciate it, if someone could point them out to me, so that I can correct them. Unfortunately I’ve only one person that could’ve helped me with the translation, but she has enough on her plate with the university right now, which is why I didn’t want to bother her further.

 

 

The pain nearly robbed him off his senses. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Wherever his mind wandered, it only discovered torrid agony. A burning, that seemed to sit in his bones, in every fibre of his body even, and threatened to overwhelm him. Something on him twitched uncontrollably and he was only after some heartbeats able to understand that those were his fingers. But as fast as this knowledge had come to him, so fast it was already drowning in the waves of pain. Dark shadows darted frequently over his field of vision, obfuscated the scarce light and ensured that he wondered desperately where the torment came from. He wanted for it to stop, by Mahal, it drove him nearly insane that he couldn’t call a halt to it.

He could feel how this began to bore panic into his skull, how it hastened his heart and how his breath followed suit. A too deep gasp tightened something in his lung. A coughing fit wrestled him down, his whole body convulsed. Merciless claws dug in the cause of his pain and seemed to tear him apart. Suddenly there was something in his mouth. Too much, he was going choke!

He was able to turn his head sluggishly and spit it out. He blinked confused. Why was it so red?

The pain reached remorselessly for him again and a cry escaped his sore throat.

“Kíli!“ He could hear a voice in the distance.

Kíli? Was that a name? It sounded so familiar, like he had known it once, before the agony had covered his whole being.

“Kili!”

And then the voice that called the name… Something soothing resided in its sound, as if he knew it… as if it came from a distant dream in which no suffering and no pain existed.

“Kíli, look at me!”

Why wouldn’t anybody answer him? He sounded so desperate, so hurt, so alone… as alone as _he_ felt… and all of a sudden it dawned on him, that it was him, who was called for. His head wandered enfeebled in the other direction and he met a pair of blue eyes… a familiar face framed by blond hair… hair stained with blood… and he realized idly that his own pain had previously increased, because a hand was pressing on his wound and tried to staunch the flow of blood. Wait… wound?

Abruptly everything came rushing back. The journey to Erebor. The battle. Thorin falling. Fíli and he had bolted to his rescue. Kíli was the first of them to slump to the ground when a blade burrowed itself in his guts. The noise of the battle was deafening and thundered down upon him like a hammer, which processed red-hot iron. Wherever his restricted field of view would let him glance, he only spotted corpses, death and perdition. The battle continued, whether or not they were lying to the feet of the fighting ones.

“Kíli,” he could hear his name anew and his whole attention wandered to his brother, who still stubbornly kept pressure on Kíli’s wound.

But save for this obstinacy he couldn’t detect any other spark of Fíli’s usually nature in the broken dwarf beside him. Bitter grief and fear reflected in his eyes, his body trembled from the physical effort to arrest the bleeding of Kíli’s abdominal injury, while the life streamed unstoppable out of his own wounds.

“Fíli,” he whispered the name of his brother, gurgling, ere he heaved up another amount of blood.

His eyes were reflexively screwed up through the agony that left him gasping for air, as soon as the cramp in his innards loosened its hold on him. He opened his lids laboriously and tried to focus only on Fíli and his voice and to forget the battle around them.

“Help me, will you?” Fíli murmured pleadingly and Kíli understood immediately, what he was hinting at.

Unable to deny his brother’s wish he raised his arm, laid his own hand upon Fíli’s and supported it in maintaining the pressure on the wound. Kíli groaned with pain.

“Don’t let go,” Fíli ordered, his voice interrupted by chattering teeth. Even his hand felt terrifyingly cold under Kílis fingertips.

“Fíli,” he mumbled sluggishly.

But his brother met him only with a heart-broken smile, wherin so much seemed to lay – sorrow, fear, pain, but also an incredibly affection and an encouragement for Kíli to hold on.

“You need to keep pressure, you hear me? Don’t let go,” he repeated softly and Kíli could catch every syllable, despite the turmoil of the roaring battle. “You’ll manage, you are strong… you always were… I’m so proud of you,” he muttered wearily.

Kíli swallowed gloomily, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell his brother his own concern. No one would come to save him, Fíli’s effort was wasted. Even so, maybe he was able to keep his brother awake and alive, so that at least he could be saved from death.

“But not this time… Fíli, I can’t do this without you. Please, don’t go,“ he choked out along with another amount of blood.

Wondering his brother blinked, almost like the meaning of the words was escaping him. Kíli swallowed, unable to ignore the taste of copper on his tongue.

“I’ve always believed to see you on the throne one day,” he croaked. Fíli had closed his eyes, but released a knowing loud, which proved to Kíli, that he listened. “You… you would have upstaged every previous king under the mountain… and the dwarves and the humans, even the elves would have acknowledged your foresight and wisdom. And… and I would have stood by your side and would have never been more proud, to be your little brother,” he wheezed laboriously, his mind directed at the glorious time that could have happened under different circumstances.

When Fíli didn’t reply Kíli’s view cleared and he stared only at his brother, laying motionless beside him. The shivering in his limbs had stopped and his features were oddly calm.

“Fíli,” he whispered, before his noises were drowned by a burble and he heaved up blood again. “Fíli!” He pursued as quickly as possible and paid the red fluid no attention, that trickled down his chin.

Awkwardly raising an arm, he placed it on Fílis shoulder and shook him gently.

“Fíli?“ There was an unpleasant pressure behind his eyes, causing his lips to tremble. “Fíli, come on,” he sobbed. “No, no, no, no! Please, don’t do this to me! Fíli, please!“

The first tears emerged between his lids. Rigidly heaving his body at its side, he banished the pain in the backmost corner of his mind as he wrapped his arms around his brother and desperately snuggled up against the lifeless body. He sobbed, sniffled and screamed, although his strength to do so should have left him by now. No one took notice of him, while he wept for his brother, his voice cracking and he mumbled again and again the same words:

_Fíli. Wake up. Please. Please. Please. Fíli. Fíli. Wake up. Wake up! Wake up…_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was darkness, where he eventually found himself. Endless emptiness. Loneliness. If this was death then it personified all the dark stories that were sometimes told about it. No halls where one was united with the own beloved ones. Just blackness, all by himself, forever.

Kíli crouched in the darkness, his arms on his knees and his face buried in the sleeves of his tunic. The pain was gone, but how should he withstand this loneliness, this emptiness, this nothingness? Had Fíli to suffer from this, too? He had hoped to be at least united with his brother when he died, but all his hopes disappeared like billows of smoke in a breeze.

There were footsteps that startled him, once he wasn’t able to tell how long he remained already in his pose. But it weren’t only steps that changed his surroundings. Carefully peeping up from his hide-out he recognized a light, it lit the darkness and seemed to lead a path. Though, before he was able to decide if he wanted to meet it or if he should rise anyway, he could feel a firm grasp on his shoulder. Amazed he turned his head to the person behind him.

His lids widened in astonishment, unable to stop his lips from parting. A smile crept on his face when he jumped on his feet and embraced Fíli fiercely. New tears burned behind his eyes and drove a sob to his throat.

“It’s okay,” Fíli murmured soothingly and stroked his hair gently, like he had done the last time when Kíli had been nothing more than a little boy.

Kíli laughed relieved as soon as they moved apart, unable to look away from Fíli. Nevertheless, his mind returned rapidly to the seriousness of their situation.

“Is this death?” He asked worriedly.

Fíli smiled meekly.

“A pre-stage, but I didn’t want to go on without you.”

He furrowed his brows confused, until he realized what his brother hinted at.

“You mean the light,” he assumed and Fíli nodded.

The fair haired dwarf took his hand determinedly and intertwined their fingers.

“You don’t need to be frightened. I won’t leave you alone,” Fíli declared resolutely.

Kíli swallowed, only managing an unsteady nod that educed a bright laughter from his brother. Not a spark of grief or fear lay in that sound or in Fíli’s appearance and these facts eased the decision for Kíli.

“It’s time. Father is waiting.”

 

 


End file.
